


Five and One: I require an heir

by Dwarven_ass_fine_dwarven_ass (Altairs_sister)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Crushes, Eventual Fluff, F/M, From Sex to Love, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Smut, Warden (Dragon Age) is Dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 04:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20401555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altairs_sister/pseuds/Dwarven_ass_fine_dwarven_ass
Summary: There are two things every King seems to need, whether he wants them or not: a Queen and an heir.When your lover dies heroically killing an archdemon and your body is given over to the Taint, you don't get much of a say in how you aquire the two things, the choice is handed over to your advisors.Five times Alistair fucks his wife, one time he makes love to her.





	Five and One: I require an heir

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a darker Alistair (he is grieving), at least in the beginning. The Queen is left intentionally vague.  
Comments keep me going! :)

She was entranced from the moment she slipped through the heavy wooden door, letting it thud closed softly behind her. At the other end of the colossal room, he stood before the roaring fireplace, large, pale stones layered above the crackling flames forming a mantle with a war hound statuette on either end. They did love their dogs in that country.

He was hardly unattractive. His hair was a dark blonde, brown streaked through it, but it glowed like gold in the flickering light, which also outlined his powerful form. They had been married for less than half a year, and yet he had not let himself fall into laziness, taking the valuable time between finishing dealing with courts and paperwork and ruling, and the time he laid his head down beside her to train endlessly, often among his own soldiers.

In the elegant, handsome tunic he wore, the powerful muscles of his back were starkly outlined, as were the powerful biceps, the strong thighs and toned calves. She tried to swallow, mouth dry. It was no wonder that the Hero of Ferelden had fallen for him, as he looked over his shoulder and gazed through her with warm honey eyes, the sharp lines of his hard jaw, his aquiline nose hard and unforgiving.

“My King,” she breathed, barely hearing herself over the fluttering of her heart. He said nothing, solemn gaze fixed somewhere past her, though the walls of the castle, maybe all the way through the middle of Denerim, on the statue of a slender, beautiful elf, a vigilant mabari at her side. She took a few, shaky steps towards him, her heart thundering faster and harder with every inch of space she closed between them.

She wished he would confide in her, anything past the quiet, severe admission that he would have a hard time producing an heir, if he could at all. She unbuckled the two belts around her waist, letting them fall to the ground without breaking eye contact. His gaze sharpened at the sound, as though he really looked at her now, instead of past her. She unlaced the back of her dress, let it loosen and drop, pool around her feet, and the slip beneath it followed, his eyes tracing its progress.

Beneath were tiny, lacy things that could barely be called underclothes, brushing across her skin like a lover’s lips, like she wished for his lips to do. She stepped out of the puddle of fabric, aching to touch him, run her fingers down his back, through his hair. His stony expression finally broke, something between a playful smirk and a pained scowl twisting his lips.

“I suppose Eamon did say “trying anything”,” he sighed, quite clearly supressing a flinch when she finally touched him. She withdrew her hand, brow furrowed.

“If this isn’t what you want,” she whispered. “He doesn’t have to know.”

A wry smile took over his face, eyes pointedly running up and down her body.

“Would you accept no as an answer?”

Licking her lips, she drew her eyes up and down his form, taking in his impressive pectorals, the abdominals so pronounced they were almost showing through his shirt.

“I would accept anything you are willing to give me...” she breathed, lifting a hand again, a burning need in her core telling her to run her fingers along his stubble, cup his jaw. “My King.”

He seized her wrist in midair, tearing a small gasp from her throat, and his other hand snaked around her back, pressing into her bare skin to push her into his body, a litany of sensation flowing through her. He was warm, radiating heat like a fire, and hard – if not for the chest shifting lazily against hers she might have thought him a statue. He turned her, walked her backwards with his handsome eyes ever unfazed, and when her calves touched the soft mattress of his extravagant bed, he shoved her down.

She collapsed back, breath caught in her throat as rough fingers undid each button on his elegant tunic one by one, baring delicious inches of olive skin to her hungry eyes. Her mouth watered, need flooding her body. He was even better looking without the warm fabric covering him – lean and powerful, he looked like a god, waiting for her to offer him her subservience. A breath shuddered out of her as she reached out, ran her hands up and down his hard chest greedily...leaned forward and scraped her teeth along his surprisingly soft skin.

She was rewarded with a low chuckle and a hand pressing into her shoulder, pushing her back onto the bed and slipping his leggings off, nimble fingers creeping up her thighs and parting them. He settled between her legs, kneeling on the soft mattress and leaning over her prone form.

There was a strange, faraway look in his eyes as his fingers crept down her body, caressing one breast on its way. He smoothed his hand over the outside of her underthings first, tearing a low gasp from her lips and hooking one finger into them, shifting them aside to plunge his finger into her.

She sighed, arching into him, unashamed of how wet she was. She had been thinking about him all day, about how she would do this, and yet now it was happening, her mind blanked. She simply rocked against his finger, clenching her inner walls around it and whimpering as his thumb brushed her clit. His hazel eyes snapped to hers at the sound and she bit her lip, warmth filling her cheeks in embarrassment. His stare was intense, yet dutiful, like a soldier mid battle, and she reached out to his face again, lifting her head from the mattress to touch her lips to his, but he stopped her again, the hand propping him up shifting, pressing on her chest to hold her down as his finger drew out of her.

She made a low, whining noise, was he punishing her? His soaked finger curled around her thin undergarment, rending the fabric easily to provide him access to her eager hole. He released her chest, as though certain that she understood his message, and dipped his head into her neck, pressing his nose against the underside of her jaw.

With the angle her head was on, she couldn’t see his cock, but she felt its burning heat as it slid across her thigh, between her lower lips, smooth skin running across hers like silk. His hard head prodded at her entrance and her eyes flickered shut. She had been dreaming of this moment for a long time, her hand and a few choice toys taking the place of the man she had needed since the moment she saw him, and now it was happening, hot breath fanning across her neck, the smell of pure masculinity filling her nostrils, her fingers sliding up to curl around his bicep.

He pressed into her, no ceremony about it, cock spreading her open and filling her with its girth. His breath caught audibly as he slid in, as her inner walls pulsed around him, and she let her head fall back, moaning delightedly.

She was no virgin, but she doubted he was, as much as she doubted he cared, and he made no comment on the fact, sliding his cock in to the base and giving her a second to enjoy her own fullness – or perhaps just to adjust to the size of his dick, which was nothing to scoff at. He began slowly, member drawing languidly against her walls and making her gasp softly, but didn’t give her long before he filled her with short, sharp thrusts, panting into her neck as she moaned into the cold air. She could feel the power in his biceps as he moved, tensing and releasing rhythmically with his movements, and she wrapped her legs around him, trying to urge him on.

He took her mercilessly, plundering her, and she revelled in the thought that out of all of the many women that lusted after this man, she was the one he was fucking. The air was filled with the sound of the fire popping and crackling, Alistair’s short breaths as he filled her, the slapping of their bodies coming together and the high, gasping moans that escaped her chest without her permission. She felt his brow furrow against her skin, his lips part and his teeth press against her throat as he gasped for air, ramming into her with a bestial need, as though he was giving into nature’s urge to fuck and fill. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, scratch at his back and cover his neck and shoulders with kisses, bites, anything to remind herself that it was her doing this, experiencing her King at his basest, but she feared he would stop if she did, and she would die before she would let that happen.

Her only warning for his orgasm was the sound of his hand curling into a fist in the blankets, his hot breathing devolving into a few sharp grunts as he thrust hard against her, filling her with every inch of his length before it twitched, and she moaned at the feeling of it pulsing inside her, filling her pussy with his seed. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily against her collarbone and one large, calloused hand snaked between them, a finger settling against her clit and rubbing it hard against her body. She cried out, pussy clenching without her permission around his softening dick, and he kept rubbing, not letting up until she threw her head back, body going rigid and a loud moan ripping out of her chest.

He withdrew his hand without a word, eased his cock out of her and silently grabbed his leggings, tucking his still-wet dick away without meeting her eyes. She watched him shuffle around the significant room, picking up his tunic as well and finally slipping through the door without a word, leaving her to peel back the covers and slip into the bed. She curled her naked body into a ball, untying and pulling off the last of her underclothes to free her breasts, tossing it to the side carelessly and setting her head down. The bed smelled like sex and him, and she let her eyes flutter shut, pretending he was beside her, body wrapped around hers and gentle kisses being littered across her shoulders and neck.

* * *


End file.
